white flag.

i am now on the third day of an ongoing battle with the spiders in my basement.

these aren't just regular old creepy spiders, mind you, but some sort of heinous hybrid of cricket, spider, and the abominable snowman that can jump unimaginable heights and tend to survive on a diet of kittens and pure steel.

i haven't been able to do my laundry for three days now, and it just doesn't seem fair. i've tried screaming warnings down the steps, politely asking them to move along, and even bargaining with them by offering small bits of leftovers from the fridge.

the gatekeeper, among the largest and likely wisest, mocks me from the bottom of the steps, keeping constant vigil of their newfound territory. often he high-five's the lewis-and-clark of the group, the forefront of the expedition and consequent fertilizers of the now herd.

i've tried everything, but most of the time i end up somewhere in between slamming the door, giving up while scoffing a 'FINE, you win!' or the much more subtle reaction of running back up the stairs screaming, throwing the majority of my clothing items in the recycle bin for fear of infestation, and doing that dance where you hop around a lot and wipe off every surface of your pants, shaking out your hair and shimmying your shoulders.

i've tried wearing my darkest sunglasses, so then they just appear to be greasy stains on the cement, which works until they launch themselves 50 ft in the air, fangs out, claws sharp, hungry for young collegiate brunettes.

i've considered bringing along my hairspray, immobilizing the mutant legs of the beasts just long enough for me to throw a load in... after testing the range of my pantene weapon i realized that by the time i was close enough to spray, they'd be dragging me into the depths of their den, feeding me piece-by-piece to the queen arachnamonster.

and so, i've given up. for the third night in a row i will sleep on a bed with no sheets. tomorrow i will revisit my beloved laundromat, and also draft a formal letter requesting the beasts pay for part of our rent, waiting to deliver the request upon the purchase of a hazmat suit.

lucille.

still the reigning king of blues.

inside all of us is a wild thing...

oui, oui!

oui, oui! Parisian leaves!

i just shuddered, realizing september is about to pass me by without one new blog post. that, or it was just the fact that somehow, once again, it seems that blacksburg has so graciously skipped right over fall and brought us straight into winter. or so it seems. let's just hope this cold front passes and welcomes us into the season of apple-picking and fall festivals, rainy football victories, bouquets or freshly sharpened pencils, and brown over-the-knee boots.

a friend told me today "fall just makes me feel so collegiate. i don't know. it's exciting." and i agreed, 100%, here in my last fall of being a college student. i'm celebrating with a glass of wine and an exam study guide in front of me... so i will leave only this, for now:

my first full story published in the collegiate times. check it out.

hanover's.

veggie or fruit? i'd argue neither, really. heaven-sent produce needs its own category.

i come from a county that is famous for its tomatoes. some say it's the sand-like quality of the soil. others, the good-hearted farmers who love the relished crops as much as they do their own families. regardless, hanover's (as we like to refer to them) have a long-running streak as being truly the best tomatoes in the world.


if you've ever had one, you won't think it's crazy that we have an annual tomato festival every july, complete with a tomato queen, tomatoes on a stick, and other such non-traditional relics to the juicy, red gods of summer.

the topic of tomatoes came up in a recent lunch conversation. a friend of mine chimed in, "i honestly think there should be a designated holiday for the first tomato sandwich of the summer." we all agreed as she laughed and added, "i have to make 2 at a time... i eat one standing up while i make the other!" my sister admitted, "i average 3 tomatoes a day: one sliced atop my toast in the morning, another for a sandwich at lunch, and one just as a side for my dinner."
yesterday i had to suffer through a 'vine ripened in new jersey" stickered tomato, surrendering to the unyielding reality that my local market in blacksburg doesn't import from my hometown, 3 hours away. as if an answer to my epicurian prayers, a friend brought our house an unexpected surprise delivery at 11pm last night: 5 gallons of fresh-picked hanover's.

sometimes karma works overboard.

seam ripper

you've got the essence, dear.
if i could have a second skin
i'd probably dress up in you.
- belle & sebastian

city of angels.

1053 ft.

mobjack bay.

refrigerator poetry.

there is something to be said for the combination of 100+ random, magnetized words and a few drunk residents and visitors who frequently congregate in the kitchen numerous nights following adventures in downtown blacksburg. the result is a mix of poetry, prose, and obscure, inappropriate pick-up lines that both inspire laughing and foggy insight the following morning. here are a few inspiring quips from this past week.




*to be an ongoing post, for whenever my refrigerator inspires me.

gate 9.

9am wednesday. RIC airport. gate 9.

justin is a physical therapist in seattle. and i'll never forget him.

you know, i don't think he'll forget me either. not anytime soon.

his kids are jake, and finley, 5 and 8. his girlfriend, maxi, is in germany. just before we parted ways i gave him a richmond postcard i'd been saving for just such an opportunity, in exchange for a promise to buy an international stamp and send it to her. they met when she tore her ACL. "she had her eye on me for a while... i had no idea." part of me believed him. he was reading 'Chicken Soup for the Lover's Soul'. i was the only one who would verbally make fun of him that day. his simple justification: 'well, i'm in love.' they took the most beautiful photo at dawn on charles bridge in Prague. he said i looked czech with my high cheekbones and bright eyes.

it's funny, now that i think of it. overhearing my response as to why i was going to colorado. 'i have no idea,' he laughed and forged a uniquely cliche introduction-- 'what's your story?'

and here i am, writing his.

<3.

arrivals/departures

it appears i have allowed the july doldrums to leak in, however only in the blog area of my life. as for the other sectors, they have all thrived with life in the midsummer month.

for that, i will have a series of posts just of notes from my recent and ongoing travels. a text i sent my friend from the airport a little over a week ago: it's all too much. with 2 glasses of wine i could cry with how beautiful life is.

and i almost did. the high i get from traveling is unmatched. the combined thrill of insatiable, misguided adventure and the anonymity that comes with sitting in an airport bar, talking to people who are all going places... whether it's just home or overseas or in my case, colorado... for a reason i couldn't name. it truly is just all too much.

smoke break.

today i packed my lunch, for the first time ever. which is good because i won't be driving home and then back, but bad because i really revel in my meager 30 minutes to sit and eat on my porch. is it acceptable to just ask to walk around the block once or twice after i enjoy my caprese salad and baguette?

i swear, sometimes i'm jealous of smokers. why is it that puffing on a cigarette, endangering your health and that of those around you, is consistently rewarded by 4 minutes of fresh air, 6 times per shift? it's so damn ironic.

it should just be built into the workday that every employee gets 15 minutes or so of just sitoutsidetime to use whenever and however they choose, whether it's to stroll the block or slowly build up an intolerance for lung cancer.

and for goodness sake, is it pronounced cap-ree-say or just cap-rees? or cap-reesh-ay?

billie jean.

this afternoon my conservative neighbor on the corner of grove and shields played michael jackson's thriller album loudly from his porch, imploring the neighborhood to memorialize the prematurely-dead pop star at 85 decibels as he silently did yard work.

i sat on a chair, in my yard, began a new novel and moved a little to the beat. above everything else, he was damn talented.

no naps.

i spent my last day of unemployment appropriately.

fighting off the arguably unwarranted effects of a last call irish car bomb 'gift', my unmade twin bed threatened me to take a nap.

a phone call from mary saved me-
you wouldn't believe how hot it is...

equally tempted to see for myself and reminiscing our own 'NO NAPS' rule from camp, i gathered the necessities:
camera
book
moleskin, pen
bathing suit
avaitors.
and set off on my bike.

i rode all the way down grove until the only remnants of the city were familiar street names, all disguised with large, historic brick homes.

i came to the conclusion that grove between malvern and westmoreland is the most bike unfriendly stretch of sidewalk in the city.

i sat at the pool and read some. i rode my bike along new streets, trying to get lost. i got an italian ice in carytown with a 'local employees' discount, then bought 2 currently destinationless postcards.

having one obligation, i headed to mechanicsville to get my oil changed. i ended up sitting on the sidewalk outside and making friends with the oilchange cat. "she doesn't really like people..." yet by the end of it she was purring a plea to take me home. i scratched her head, and told her i'd see her in 3 months, or 3000 miles (whichever comes first.)

from there, i caught up with my parents and did my ritualistic scouring and pilfering of their refrigerator, and finally to my bestfriendof17years' grad party.

what followed was a combination of equal parts barbecue, live classic rock, belting out temptations lyrics, and many multi-generational games of flip cup, well into the wee hours.

that wee part really being the only questionable decision, considering, as of 10am today, i'm employed!

ole.

flannel

when i was 4 i participated in the christmas pageant at my church. my sister and i were shepherds, and i vaguely remember how excited i was about the costumes- an off-white pillow case cinched around the waste by a simple leather cord.

i'm sure my mother would jump at the chance to prove wrong my assumption that there are no remaining pictures from the event, however, it seems some things never change...

recently i was helping a friend move when i spotted one of the greatest 2.5x3 ft pieces of flannel i'd run across in a while. when i asked, he told me it was the pillow case he used to move his drums (? i'd assume that pesky, pillow shaped drum?). i asked if his drums would miss it, but didn't wait for the response.

here, is my result:


to be worn at any outdoorconcertcookoutfamilygettogether that presents itself.

sunday funday

summer it the time when one sheds her tensions with her clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. a few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world.

- Ada Louise Huxtable

a/c

my dad told me once that air conditioning is thought of as the most antisocial invention. and now, i couldn't agree more.

living in the fan, everyone has a porch. everyone. however, with the convenience of the a/c, people no longer need the porch. they are drawn to the indoors rather than spending countless hours on the front porch, drinking lemonade or something stronger, connecting with neighbors, taking in every part of their square of the world.

today, after giving my first ever official personalized tour of richmond (yes, of course, it was a success.) my tour victim left, and there was a brief moment of panic when i realized i had no one to keep me company for the next hour or so. proactively i grabbed my book (summer sisters, for the 3rd time. NBO) and headed to my porch.

not long after, someone came out of the pineapple door. which, by the way, finally disappeared last night, with no appropriate reaction as of yet.

the events that followed were a combination of wine, deviled eggs, a bit of cheese and lots of shared stories. and laughs. and plans to go out, this evening. as well as a book idea, co-authored by the three of us, in the works.

all of this brought by a pineapple.
<3.


actually, come to think of it, if the pineapple and my air conditioning were to fight, i'd argue the pineapple would be victorious. it's slowly reviving communities. it's all happening.

bienvenidos.

over the past 5 years i've had 6 different addresses.

in considering this recently, i began to think of the neighbors i've had, and those i've never met. i made a promise to myself to find a unique way to meet my neighbors with every new place i move- a welcoming pineapple. my mom told me once that the pineapple was a traditional symbol of welcome, and so i did a bit of research.

after hesitantly discussing the idea with my roommates (this would their first experience of my spontaneous creativity) over dinner and martinis at three monkeys, they were thrilled. after we got home i walked a half a block to shields market (my choice fan market) and picked up one of the spiky fruits.



I then drafted and wrote a brief note, on the back of a picture of the richmond skyline, and attached it to the pineapple.


and left it on my neighbors' porch.


as of 0900 hours, the pineapple was still patiently waiting on the welcome mat.

right of passage.

there's a shamefully legitimate reason for my recent blog drought.

about a month ago, I picked up the collegiate times and saw a blurb on the front: Position Open for She Said writer. the She Said column comes out every friday, and is a witty, sarcastic opinion piece on some aspect of college life, compared right beside the 'he said' column. it's entertaining. it's bold. it was a position i was born to have.

so i applied, approximately 2 minutes after the paper came from printing. the responding email introduced the subject for the 'write-off' each applicant was to write a competing article on. the subject? throwing a college party.

here is my piece, which if nothing else, i hope was a damn close second.
............................................................................................................................

She Said- Throwing a College Party

As freshmen entering into college, ‘making it’ through the year includes avoiding accumulating 3 JR’s, not getting caught in a Pritchard fire drill, and evading the freshmen fifteen like the plague. It isn’t until sophomore year, however, that success is defined by the ultimate right of passage: throwing a college party.

Avoiding JR’s becomes eluding the police, fire drills give way to not being skunked into a naked run around your apartment complex, and the terror of a few extra pounds becomes blurred with every flip of a solo cup.

The first college party is a defining moment in any undergraduate drinking-enthusiast’s life; a first experience that becomes not jaded but seasoned with each credit passed. Every detail of your first college party is planned, from each strategic invite to the song to be played at the top of every hour. The pinnacle of the planning period, logically, is the official party Facebook event profile. Days may be spent staring blankly at that notorious blue and white screen, choosing the perfect Event Name and Tagline, while debating between the attraction of a safe ‘house party’ description, or a more entertaining ‘night of mayhem’ or even ‘erotic party’ choice. After hours of deliberation, finally a coordinated picture, a truly ‘unique’ theme decision (always between heaven and hell, 80s, and togas), and detailed report on every type of alcohol that will be served, you invite everyone you know. This is not the party to hold back, after all.

Finally, after spending embarrassing amounts of your parents ‘just-for-essentials’ money (you’ll make it back for sure!) on liquor, natty kegs, solo cups, and Jell-o packets, plus decorations, the evening arrives. Your tiny apartment turns into a fantasy land of slutty angels, sluttier demons, and apathetic college students. As you slip into a hostess-excused drunkenness, even through your dynamic double-vision the night unfolds just as planned, from every game of Kings and random keg stands to shocking beer-pong upsets. However, upon further inspection the following morning, you realize hangover-vision is not quite as forgiving. The brutality of a pounding headache combined with a completely trashed apartment, the reality of being over $300 in debt, plus an expensive noise violation taped to the door brings you back to reality, and you immediately meet the fate of every freshman in attendance the night before, crying as you kneel over the toilet.

The upperclassman, however, has learned a thing or two from years of intensive party researching. With more than 60 credits under his or her belt, time is not wasted on Facebook events, or any planning at all, really. The upperclassman party is simply a perpetual pregame. It begins with, “hey, wanna invite some people over before we go out?” which suddenly becomes a familiar group of 20 or so, with the occasional uncomfortable newcomer. The theme ends up being ‘Will anyone notice I wore this out Tuesday?’ and the drinks of choice are a BYOB buffet of PBR’s, Bud Light, and the occasional pretentious six-pack of Leinenkugel’s. The goal of ‘making it to Sharkey’s by 10’ is rarely achieved, as more often the pregame never ends. The night is filled with more intellectually challenging drinking games, such as Baseball, Cheers Govenah!, and Sardines. Being skunked in beer pong has evolved into voluntary streaking of the drillfield, football field, or other Hokie landmark. And in the morning, you grumble an “I’d move you if you passed out in front of everyone…” to your roommate after waking up on the couch, again, and sigh satisfied that the house looks much like it did the previous morning, plus the fridge is inhabited by a motley crew of leftover beers.

penniless creativity.

times are hard.

not so much in the larger 'it's just this economy' picture, but in the smaller, no-chance-of-paying-rent picture of my upstairs room on the 2100 block of grove avenue. i've found, however, the immense creativity that grows out of having no money. i ran across a post today on craigslist for someone to appear at a 6 year-old's birthday party dressed as a star war's character... and it occurred to me that, for the right amount of money, i can bear an uncanny resemblance to princess leia.

i went to lunch today with one of my closest friends. we sat in a hidden booth at ipanema and had conversation similar to those we've had sitting across from each other for 7 years now. in speaking of my job search, david asked me what my skills are. my response:

sewing
spanish
dancing, kind of
singing ("you can sing?" "well, i mean, not well, but if you ask me to sing i'm willing to do it.")
leapfrog
basic origami (the sailboat.)
making people smile
cooking ("what do you cook?" "right now, anything i can saute in garlic. or just garlic.")
photography (... although not according to the art-critiquing-challenged study abroad office. )
writing travel guides
catchphrase
listening
secret handshakes

so. if you hear of a position opening for an overall renaissance woman, call me. i'll be drinking pbr's and not buying any new dresses, ever.
but happy, somehow, still.

<3.

untitled-worthy.

if my google could respond to me, it would say, "national security policy? really?? on a thursday?"


... nothing like the looming presence of 3 essays standing between me and my promising weekend to inspire a mindless blog post.

kentucky derby, do wait for me.

celebrate we will.

bartender
pig
granny
why i am
dancing nancies
don't drink the water
funny the way it is
recently
crush
spaceman
cornbread
jimi thing
so much to say
anyone seen the bridge
too much
two step
#27
stay (wasting time)



live music should always make you move this much.

dear chicago,

it's nights like this that i crave music.
and conversation that is honest.





maybe tomorrow.

4x6

so there's a photo contest at the study abroad office. which, shamelessly, is one of the reasons i went abroad. i kept it in mind everytime i brought my camera out with me for a day of exploring, no matter what city or country i found myself in. here are the finalists i've narrowed it down to... we can only enter 5.

they're in order of my travels- spain, morocco, paris, italy.










in 2 weeks, expect a nondescript post with a picture of one of these photos on a wall beneath a sign reading "1st place".

<3.